Latest Posts

  • Where are the victims?

    I’ve been watching the Epstein files coverage with a familiar knot in my stomach. Not because the revelations shock me (none of this is news to women). But because we’re talking about literally everyone except the people who were abused. What this means for Trump. Mandelson’s future. The artist formerly known as Prince Andrew. It’s…

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  • Twenty thousand starlings and one epiphany 

    The binoculars were a gift to myself last summer. A slightly desperate attempt, if I’m honest, to reconnect with something I’d lost. After Nan died, I kept thinking about the coastal walks we used to take, and how she’d point out seabirds along the Pembrokeshire clifftops. I wanted to find my way back to that…

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  • All I want for Christmas is a crowbar and some crockery

    Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year. A season of joy, goodwill, and togetherness. Or, if you’re being honest: a pressure cooker of family dysfunction, financial stress, and forced jollity that would make even Santa reach for the brandy before noon. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas as much as the next person…

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  • Surfing a tsunami of tiredness 

    “How are you doing?” “Yeah, good thanks…just tired.” I don’t know about you, but it feels like I’m having a version of this exchange at least once a day. It seems that everyone I know is genuinely and profoundly knackered. My friends say it. My postman says it. My teenage son says it. Even my…

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  • Float on: My unlikely addiction to sensory deprivation

    Once a month, I strip off, shower, insert earplugs, and lower myself into a sleek triangular pod; part spaceship, part oversized clamshell. The lid gently closes above me. The lights fade. And for the next hour, I’m suspended in body-temperature water so saturated with Epsom salts that I float effortlessly on the surface, weightless as…

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  • Second Hand September: Changing shopping habits one glittery frock at a time

    The best dress I’ve ever owned didn’t come from a glossy high street store, nor cost anywhere near three figures. It didn’t arrive in tissue paper from a slick online boutique, and it didn’t involve me doomscrolling through “New In” sections at midnight, panic-buying three days before a big event.  No, my greatest fashion triumph…

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  • Aliens, lasers and sunrises: A magical Green Man birthday 

    Some birthdays are more extra-terrestrial than others. This year, mine involved sequins, lasers and a pair of alien antennae. Because if you can’t dress up as a disco-loving visitor from space at Green Man festival, when you turn 44, then when can you? I’ll never get bored of banging on about how lucky we are…

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  • A daughter’s memoir of a dad who drank, and a story familiar to too many in Wales 

    Few books grip me from the opening lines. Fewer still leave me coming up for air five hours later, feeling like my insides have been through a spin cycle. Long Going, by Welsh author Sophie Calon, subtitled ‘a daughter’s memoir of a dad who drank’, is one of those. It’s not light holiday reading, but I’ve recommended it…

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  • Return of the (panicky) pack 

    Not that I’m counting, but in 144 hours, I’m off to Italy. It’s my first summer break in eighteen years without The Lad, who’s heading to Zante with his mates. So, as he’s drunkenly stumbling home from a night on the strip, I’ll be meditating on a terrace overlooking Lake Como, breathing in the sunrise…

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  • No more school shoes in September

    It was his black school jumper, strewn across the passenger seat, that did it. As soon as I spotted it, the floodgates caved and my face started leaking, a hot tumble of tears splashing all over my lap. The Lad’s final day in school, and I’d been doing so well.  I held it together for…

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About this blog

About

Hello. I’m Sara. This site is home to my writing for the Western Mail, a newspaper kind enough to publish my internal ramblechats. In 2022 I was named Wales Media Awards Columnist of The Year for this column. Madness. You’ll find me spaffing opinions on feminism, inequality, festivals, tech, art and whatever else pops into my head at 3am the day before deadline. There’s also bonus content, when the muse takes me (WHERE IS SHE TAKING ME? I DIDN’T ORDER THIS CAB! Etc…).

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